Guardian ad litem
by snarechan
Summary: When we’d first joined the Underground things were simple – ask for your orders, go out and shoot things, then come back and do it all over again. But this one?
1. Chapter One: Sour Days

Guardian-ad-litem

By Snare-chan

**Pairings**: None  
**Ratings**: PG-13  
**Category(ies)**: General/slight AU  
**Warning(s)**: Cussing  
**Status**: Continuation, 1/5  
**Summery**: When we'd first joined the Underground things were simple – ask for your orders, go out and shoot things, then come back and do it all over again. But this one?

**Notes**: Wow, I'm only at 49 percent in the game and I'm already writing fanfiction for Jak II. Scribble this down on your calendars folks, because something like this happens only once every ten lifetimes, so you're witnessing a miracle in the works! Aren't you all so special?

Honestly, I'm a bit nervous about my first Jak-world-related fic thingy because uh, ya know, it's _my first one_. I'm going to cover up all misconceptions, mistakes, and possible likeliness to the Jak fics found around the Internet as me attempting to get a good grasp of writing the characters and the place in which they reside. I'm good, ne?

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Jak II; wish I did like everybody else. They should put Jak II in stock, then I'd buy it all!

**Dedication**: To my coolest, bestest guy friend ever. If it weren't for him I wouldn't have gotten nearly as far as I have with my Jak II game, which means this story would suck even more than it might already because I'd know Jak shit about what's going on. ;D

* * *

Ever have one of those days where the world went and threw you a whole slew of nothing but lemons? Oh sure, you could eat them, sell them, or throw them back. Harder. But in the end, you're still left with far too many to know what to do with, much less how to get rid of them all? Yeah, it's been one of _those_ days, and the lemons keep on falling from the tree to land in piles on the grass to rot, if you know what I mean.

The name's Daxter, but you ladies can call me Dax. I may not look like it, but my couple-feet tall self fights crime like nobody's business. Over time I've learned that the whole battling-for-the-greater-good thing does shitty stuff to your karma, so my day started off like any other. Woke up to a face-full of Torn goodness, went for a happy little romp with some playful metal heads, fixed a few things that some idiot or two had broken out of the kindness of my sidekick's and my own hearts, and let us not forget about our daily routine of appearing before our adoring fans – the generous public of Haven City and the all-around famous Krimzon Guard.

Not only that, but if you think the fun ends there then, woo-hoo, aren't you in for a real treat! My partner and I have had some lovely rinse-and-repeat action going on here, and we're currently wrapped up in the endless cycle that is our routine right now. I know, the good times never seem to stop rolling with me.

By the way, if you haven't caught on to the dripping sarcasm that has fallen from my lips and begun burning through the dirt like acid, then might I suggest a hearing test at your local medic's office? It's just advice from little old me here, but if I was you, I'd head to the nearest one ASAP.

Now that you're all lost and curious about why I'm feeling so cynical today, let me fill you in on what's up. We could backtrack a little to when the head honcho Torn thought it would be a great idea to send us out on another suicide mission, or to us 'borrowing' a zoomer and running into a couple hundred guards because someone-who-shall-not-be-mentioned thought it would be wonderful to speed through the streets again, or even so far back as to when we'd first arrived at the Pumping Station to handle a 'small' disturbance in the area. But no, there's no need to have random flashbacks to all those insignificant times, because there's nothing like the present.

At this current point in my life, nothing but the norm is bothering me, just another attack by metal heads, which of course later sends my friend and I into a dire situation most likely to spell our _absolute doom_. No real shocker there since we've done this sort of thing before, but it does tend to get old real fast. Especially when we've unknowingly set ourselves up for it.

"You know Jak, when we're low on ammo it usually means a refill is a good thing before – not after, not in the middle, not even sideways of next Tuesday, but _before_ – you decide to go all out on another fine assignment for the Tattooed Wonder," I point out helpfully to my human friend, the blonde guy who's fighting the brunt of the rabid animals.

Please don't get too attached to him yet, ladies. My partner here might look all macho with his big guns, well-shaven goatee, and a style that the Baron of Haven City couldn't touch with a six-foot pole (all of which I provided him, by the way. But does anyone care that I know steel blue is the new dodger blue and can tell Yacow wool from the cheap stuff? Noooo…), but I'm definitely the better deal. Despite my orange and fuzzy appearance, I'm the real pants-wearer in this dynamic duo…even though I have no real need for pants anymore.

Returning to the existing situation, it would seem that despite the fact that I was on the other's shoulder arm-plate, and thus consequently right next to his big pointy ear, I was being ignored. It takes real talent to brush me off, let me tell you, but there's a reason for that…I hate being ignored no matter the circumstance, and I love going that extra mile to get attention.

"Would this be a bad time to mention that I told you so?"

Jak's left eyebrow looked like it just gave a nasty twitch, signaling that he was indeed paying attention to me. This new information, of course, only encouraged me on, though to be honest I probably would have continued talking anyway. I just have a lot to share, is all.

"Because I did, you know. As we were driving along I specifically asked you, as we were passing the shooting range, in fact, if you needed to reload your weapons. But no, you just kept on going saying 'Dax, this will be sooo simple! I'm so special I only need fifty clips in the Power Blaster, five in the Scatter Gun, and my bare-fucking-hands!' But oh no, don't mind my observations."

At the other's exasperated sigh, I brought out the charm and plastered on my most innocent ottsel smile, managing to even add a hint of a sparkle to it for effect. By the time there was a break in attacks and he'd turned his head around to plaster me with a glare, he was sure to be too stunned by my sweet looks to reply.

"This isn't exactly the best time to be discussing that, Dax."

Ok, so maybe my allure is limited to the big-breasted and beautiful type. To me this can be considered a good thing, though.

"Whatever do you mean, buddy old pal?"

Before he could answer, Jak conveniently got distracted by a new group of metal heads that was trying to play peek-a-boo but only ended up playing dead as he unloaded some lovely bits of lead into various parts of their bodies. It probably would have been nice to give them a head's up that my pal here doesn't like to play games. As he unloaded the last of it his weapon gave a few hollow clicks to signal that it was running on empty and needed some _el ammo_. Cursing under his breath, he tucked it away, deciding that now would be a good time to flee. My kind of plan, really.

"And while we're on the subject, might I remind you that when Torn said there was a tiny disturbance that he wanted you to patrol around for I don't think he meant have fun and poke the metal heads while you're at it!"

Out of the corner of his eye he gave me another glare as he managed to avoid some more happy-go-lucky monsters coming our way. Thankfully, I've grown immune to most death glares, angry stares, and haughty glances, so I didn't keel over and off his shoulder. To prove this, I even offered him another grin for his efforts.

Hanging on a little tighter as he jumped down from our perch on the front of the Pumping Station, lo and behold, more sharp-fanged, blood-sucking lurkers on crack decided to show up to block our path. Even though we were outnumbered about five to two they were dealt with using great poise and with exceptional ease because you have to remember, this is Jak and me you're talking about! Back there I might have sounded like I doubted Jak's abilities, but truth be told, I certainly wouldn't want to get in his way, even if he was barehanded and there was a fifty-foot-thick steel wall between us.

And hey, I didn't even need my buddy here to use his gun like a club! If killing metal heads like he just did doesn't spell out anything to you then I wouldn't recommend pissing the guy off to find out what I mean.

So after letting the dude go have his fun with the beasts, it was all clear and a cakewalk to the entrance back to the city, though I'm sure our work here was hardly done. Still, I was about to let loose a barrage of catchy victory slogans and my party dance moves for another job well survived when, wouldn't you know it, something else had to show its ugly face, and I hadn't even spoken too soon yet! The nerve.

Actually, how we didn't notice this sucker is beyond me. I mean this thing has to be the biggest, most disgusting thing I've ever seen in my entire life – and no, for the record, I am not talking about Krew eating his second breakfast or accidentally catching old Samos in the shower. Not that I'd really know any of this from experience or anything.

The metal head, or at least it appeared to be one, sprang up from the water and skidded out in front of us. If I'd thought the ones from before were smoking something, then this must be either the other metal heads' supplier of dope or their Queen, because it's about as big as it is ugly. Which is saying a lot since the creature couldn't possibly get more ugly even if you whacked it with the mother of all ugly sticks. Oh, and it resembled one of those lurker crabs from way back at Sentinal Beach with pinchers large enough to snap Jak in half and crush me into powdery ottsel bits.

Lovely.

It was my turn to glare at Jak, because most likely, in some way, this was entirely his fault. Earlier today or sometime in the recent past he must have said or done something to turn the cosmos against us and decide to change from our favor to that of the metal heads just to spite us for ever doubting that we would get a break. That or it was just bad luck, but it's easier to blame a breathing entity than something that you can't hurt.

Besides that, there wasn't much else either of us could do but try and avoid its pinching claws as Mrs. Snappy decided to be her crabby self and take it out on us now that she had noticed our presence.

"Well, I think we found the disturbance, Jak."

Rolling to the side to avoid being mauled mercilessly by the mallet-like limbs it was sporting, we kind of got lost in all the dirt and sand we kicked up in the process. Ya know, that's what I really hate about sand. The stuff is so…_ sandy_, and it gets everywhere. Like in your eyes, up your nose, down your clothes, or in my case stuck to your fur. It's almost as bad as just getting drenched, minus the nasty smell of wet dog I normally sport after coming out of a pool of something or other.

…

Man, I really need to stop getting off track like that. A bad habit from when I was a kid that has proceeded to only get worse with my quick ottsel mind. You see, an animal's instinct is to think swiftly before you forget whatever it was you were trying to think about.

Then there's the whole coming-back-to-reality thing where you either A: come back to it just in time to see that you're about to die for zoning out at the most inopportune time or B: time hasn't moved at all since you stepped back into the recesses of your mind. Life or death situations like this fight tend to do that freeze-frame thing.

This time around it was fortunately the latter, because I came back to the sight of Jak coming out of his roll from before to crouch several feet away from the area we'd just been in. The ground he had been standing on moments ago was nothing more than an empty hole now, the void space resembling something along the lines of an e-bomb having gone off in its place. Ouch.

"I'm just going out on a limb here buddy…but it might be a good idea to be heading towards the gate right about now, which happens to be in the opposite direction that you're going in!"

One of these days that boy is going to regret ignoring me, hopefully when I'm not around to see it. Right now the metal head was intent on turning both of us into some fine pancakes for its breakfast. Add to the equation that Jak was ammo-less and has no control over his dark alter ego and thus has no defense against the monster presented to us, running like ninnies towards the door to Haven City (emphasis on the HAVEN, thank you) didn't seem like such a bad alternative.

But no, he wanted to go right back into the fray like the stupid hero he is. Even though I really detested the idea, I still backed him up, the niggling voice known as my conscience reminding me that I am, after all, his best friend and shouldn't hinder his actions, no matter how utterly stupid they may seem. Of all the things that had to stick around after my transformation, why did it have to be a Jiminy Cricket?

"Jak, are you insane! Well, even more insane than usual? Don't be afraid of going back to Haven City, it's your friend, really!"

Ok, so maybe I wasn't very good at the supporting thing. The way I see it is if I'm really his best friend then I should talk him out of running head-first into a death trap instead of agreeing with his methods of fighting a losing battle. Be a friend, kiddies: prevent your best bud from fighting metal heads today! And always wear your seatbelt.

"I've got an idea."

The first words out of his mouth at my comment, and perhaps his famous last words, were those? Usually when the guy has a plan it involves three things: namely pain, more pain, and even more pain. Just something I can always look forward to.

Without further ado he was scrambling up the nearest tree, all those times we'd done so as little kids seeming to come in handy. Though why he'd want to eat a coconut at a time like this is beyond me. It's either that or he was going to go ape-man and throw them into the crab's mouth to choke it to death. I wouldn't be laughing if I were you; stranger things _have_ been known to happen around him. I could give you a long list of all of them, but if I told you I'd have to kill you. Your government appreciates your understanding.

By the time we'd reached the very top of the plant, it was already beginning to sway under the new weight, which is pretty freaky since Jak isn't exactly a heavyweight or anything. Oh sure, he's got the six-pack abs and biceps that could crush beer cans, but it doesn't exactly add up to the benchmark. All that was needed to push the tree over the edge, quite literally, was one curt snip from the crab's massive claw, and down we went.

And we landed right on top of it.

At first the added weight that came crashing down on its back didn't seem to affect it, but after a moment, the metal head's body gave a weak shudder. With a disgruntled bout of startled clicking sounds, the crustacean was suddenly down for the count, its big bulk collapsing to the ground faster than you could say 'holy Precursors on a stick'! For effect, its spindly legs even twitched a little as death spasms overtook them, though just to be sure I poked it in the eye a little with a nearby twig.

Satisfied when it didn't rear up again and try to eat me, I turned back to grin at my partner. "See, I told you this mission would be easy!"

* * *

If there's one thing I've grown accustomed to after a mission it has to be the inevitable drive back to Underground, which is always an experience for me, to say the least. By that I mean it's like being sent downstream on a runaway speedboat filled up with blue eco as fuel. Of course that's only when Jak is in a good mood.

I don't think I'll ever understand where this mad drive of his to speed comes from. Being a part of the male sex I can accept, to a point, why he likes going around at speeds a mother would faint at. The wind in your hair (or fur), the feel of doing something dangerous and exciting… it's all about getting the thrill of your life because hey, you only live once! Here lies the key: I'm looking for thrills, not _kills_, and there is a major difference.

Just looking at him, you can tell Jak hasn't been anywhere near something that resembles a vehicle for two years. It's obvious enough to me by how he moves around on one that he was never taught how to really use one, not that there's a 'zoomer 101' or anything in the prisons under the palace. Also, back in Sandover it wasn't nearly as densely populated as it is here, so moving along at top-notch speeds was never a problem back home.

At first it was really creepy how the guy chauffeured me around; all that traumatizing action from his first time back on a zoomer might have had to do with all the accidents we'd had. If there's one thing I can tell you about my chum here, it's that he may make mistakes, but he learns from them quickly. After all the practice he's had with running about town doing deliveries, drop offs, escapes, transporting, and numerous other things, I'm proud to say that Jak is now just another road-raging, speeding, impatient teen with a high-speed transport.

Actually, he blends in so well lately that no one notices us much. My theory for that is that the residents of Haven City are just as bad, if not horribly worse, as he is at times. Whether this is a good thing or not, I've yet to figure out. On the plus side, the only time anyone ever cares if we exist is if we sneeze at a Krimzon Guard funny, but on the other hand, if I'm not paying attention to the front of the road no one else is.

"Double-seater, two 'o' clock."

Without even looking up as I spoke, his body readjusted to guide the zoomer into a sharp turn while he drove it slightly into the lower zone to avoid clipping the passing driver at the last minute - all while still going at crazy-as-all-hell mph.

So maybe I lied; he is a one-of-a-kind weird ass driver. I've learned that it works to tell myself over and over again that the quicker he goes, the sooner we'll be off the streets and to the hideout…with Torn.

On second thought, maybe Jak should learn that the accelerator isn't meant to be planted down like that.

Once these thoughts cross my mind, the sight of the dead-end alleyway where the door to the Underground is comes into our sights, time having probably sped up while I was holding on for dear life and repeating the mantra from before.

Not even bothering to park our ride (mostly because it's not ours to begin with and/or will most likely be stolen later), we hop off to wait for the automatic rock passageway to acknowledge our presence and reveal itself. Immediately a gust of lukewarm air rushes up at us as the 'door' lifts up and out of our way, the sensation causing the fur on my back to stand up on end.

As we make our way down the dinky stairwell, that's not the only thing to greet us, either. You know Torn, the guy I keep mentioning? Yes, well, here's your chance to meet him, in the tanned flesh.

The guy is exactly where we left him several hours ago, standing over the love of his life, the battle table covered with maps and other assorted sheets of jumbled paper. He might look all cool, collected, and like a good family man standing all stern and shit in his little corner, but I'm here to tell you the guy didn't get into the Krimzon Guard (yes, I do mean that cattle prod carrying red armored kind that chase us on a daily basis) due to being Mr. Congeniality. He'd rather stab you in the back than give you a decent hello.

"Greetings and salutations from the-"

"What took you two?" he practically snarls, though whether it's at Jak and me or his beloved table I can't tell, considering he didn't look up when he spoke. He does love that table a lot, so it was probably directed towards us.

"Gosh Torn, had I known you'd missed us so much we could have hurried along a little for you."

Ignoring me entirely, he continued on. "Did you guys deal with the intrusion out by the Pumping Station?"

Next to me Jak's head nodded once. "Yeah, we-"

"Ran into enough metal heads to clog Krew's arteries! They even introduced us to their mom, a sweet lady, though a little crabby. I think she was experiencing menopause."

"And-"

"We took it out kick-butt style! Well, we kind of somewhat sort of had to use a tree to do it, but I'm sure we can explain to the environmentalists that its death was for a worthy cause."

"Do you ever shu-"

"Torn baby, I'm like the eco bunny. I keep going and going and going-"

"So I've notice-"

"And going and going and going and going and go-"

"Jak, shut up your damned pet alrea-"

"And going and go-mmph!"

For a moment, Jak gently held my mouth shut with his hand, just long enough to make his point. I guess our big happy family couldn't handle the fact I can read minds and finish their sentences before they are done saying them aloud. Hah!

"Wow, you did it without killing him. I commend you."

Jak spared me from having to comment by speaking up before I had the chance. "Any more missions for us?"

The 180-degree attitude change Torn had was scary. What really got me was the cruel grin of his that spoke enough volumes to send my cute, fluffy little ears tightly back against my skull as his lips seemed to curl in that menacing way only he can do. The last time he'd had that look on his face…well, I'd rather not have to talk about it, but let's just say it had been bad. _Really_ bad.

"It's a good thing you asked Jak, because it so happens that I do."

"As if us not asking about it would have stopped you," I muttered, crossing my arms across my chest. If he heard me or not Mr. Dreadlocks didn't respond either way. Instead, he turned around and, dare I even say it, _gently_ picked something up. At once, warning bells and red lights were going off in my head, my eyes narrowing suspiciously at him as he leisurely made his way over to us with the bundle in his arms.

It would seem Jak was just as unsure about whatever it was he had as I was, his arms opening up to gingerly take it from him as carefully as he possibly could. For all we knew, it could very well have been some swaddled explosive and go off with the slightest hitch.

Then it moved.

Eyes now an inch or two wider than normal, we nervously exchanged glances before looking down at the small mass in Jak's arms, then over to Torn. He still wore that smug sort of look from before and that suspicious feeling snuck back into my tiny gut. Torn was definitely up to something, and I'm sure I wasn't going to like it.

Me being the braver (or stupider, whichever you prefer) of the two of us, I chose to slide down my buddy's arm slightly, a paw gingerly reaching out to grasp the edge of the sheet and pull it back to reveal…a pair of the most sickly adorable doe-brown eyes you could just coo over, then onward to a face that could only belong to a couple-months-old baby. I, of course, took this all in stride, however shocked I was.

"Oooooh no. No no no…no way man, you can't be serious!" I managed to get out as I jumped back onto my friend's shoulder in one bound, pointing an accusing finger in Torn's direction for emphasis. "What do we look like to you, babysitters!"

If it were at all possible, that sick little smirk on the Tattooed Wonder's face grew wider at my plain distress.

"Randilyn here has to be taken care of and delivered to the water slums tomorrow at twenty-two hundred hours, that's ten sharp if you didn't know, to be delivered to her legal guardian completely unharmed. You think you can handle all that?"

Blondie here, who hadn't spoken a word from the moment he realized that we were assigned to be watching over a kid and not going to go off and shoot things, appeared to still be in shock, so it was up to me to handle this. Good thing I'm a professional at these types of things.

"Now hold up, pal, what do you mean we have to take care of this kid for one whole frickin' day? I thought the Underground was about saving the city, not a children's daycare center!" I couldn't help but snap. It was just a wee bit irritating how this guy seemed to just go out of his way to make people's lives unbearable, especially when one of those lives is mine.

My words struck a nerve, the other's smirk twitching slightly. Score one for the little guy. Unfortunately, that little victory of mine came at a cost, because the only warning we got before the whole dam broke loose was a soft sniffle from Jak's arms. A long string of wails, displaying the kid's utter despair, positively had all our ears drooping some.

Me and my big mouth…

"Well, good luck, you two." To Torn, that seemed to be the end of the discussion, his body turning back towards his desk before he appeared to think differently of it, his eyes trailing to glance at us over his shoulder. "You're going to need it."

If this was life throwing me another one of those lemons, I'd like it to be known that I want to squirt some of it in Torn's eye.

* * *

To Be Continued…

**A/N**: Hee, I've always loved the cinema scenes concerning Torn assigning missions to Jak and Daxter, each seeming to be funnier than the last. I'm not sure how to word it, but it's like each has a funny theme to it and I hope I did at least a slightly good job at living up to them.

I'm pretty proud of how I wrote Daxter in this (though it looks suspiciously like how a lot of others write him…damn), my ability to beat down my primal urges to type sophisticated sounding characters and detailed plots instead written in a more relaxed style. Still, I feel like I rambled and went on mini tangents when my intent was to have Dax sound quick witted and thinking at a squirrels pace. I just hope you didn't accidentally step in the OOC when it was left on the floor …


	2. Chapter Two: Time Without Wings

Guardian-ad-litem

By Snare-chan

**Pairings**: None  
**Ratings**: PG-13  
**Category(ies)**: General/slight AU  
**Warning(s)**: Cussing  
**Status**: Continuation, 2/5  
**Summery**: When we'd first joined the Underground things were simple – ask for your orders, go out and shoot things, then come back and do it all over again. But this one?

**Notes**: Wow, I'm surprised this story actually got the responses it did! Thank yous go out to all you cool people who've reviewed so far and are silently stalking this. You all rock hard core. Seriously.

Before I begin, someone asked me recently if 'Guardian-ad-litem' actually had any meaning, so according to 'courtcafe . com / glossary /' it means:

"Generally, the attorney appointed by the Court as the guardian ad litem represents of the child's best interests, while the job of the child's attorney is to be an advocate for the child and the child's wishes. In Connecticut, anyone who cannot communicate their wishes, or who lacks competency to act in their own best interests, may, in order to see that their interests are protected, be given a guardian-ad-litem by the Court. From the Connecticut Probate Practice Book, Rule 1.1.09, _"The term Guardian ad litem shall mean a person appointed by the court during any proceeding in which a minor child, undetermined or unborn or class of such person, or a person whose identity or address is unknown, or an incompetent person is a party, to represent and protect the interests of such parties."_"

Talk about overkill on the defining, but I thought the word really fit what I was trying to go for in this story. That and it made me think of Jak in a clean pressed lawyer suit, which is just ludicrous - smexy, but ludicrous.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Jak II; wish I did like everybody else. They should put Jak II in stock, then I'd buy it all!

**Dedication**: To my coolest, bestest guy friend ever. If it weren't for him I wouldn't have gotten nearly as far as I have with my Jak II game, which means this story would suck even more than it might already because I'd know Jak shit about what's going on. ;D

* * *

If there is one certain thing that I hate, it has got to be mornings. The only thing that even comes close to the hate I feel for mornings (especially _Monday_ mornings!) is a forty-page list filled with _more_ of the things I despise and want to tear up with my tiny little claws; and if you think that's long, you should see the unabridged version! 

You see, if I had it my way I'd stay up late into the night then sleep a good portion of the day away. I'm a party animal at heart and lounging around till well past noon is sort of a novelty for me, especially after having a little fun with (the beer) Tess at the bar. Since life saw fit to be my alarm clock, I can't ever wake up on my own; my early hours of the day are filled with odd occurrences and annoyances that just won't let me snooze.

Don't believe me? Well then, please do tell how you'd explain a ceiling fan almost landing on my head, or the time Jak accidentally rolled over on top of me, OR the time I fell off the bed, had the water faucet turned on me, been tossed out with the sheets that needed to be cleaned…

You know I'm right; just leave it at that.

Anyway, this morning had to be one of the weirder ones. Thanks to the crawler, Randilyn, my buddy Jak here and I barely managed to get in an hour or two of winks last night. She wouldn't take anything we gave her, and finally she just tired herself out to the point of sleep, proceeding to wake up almost every hour on the hour with disturbing accuracy. I'm fortunate enough that I can sleep like a rock half the time, however, Jak is more jumpy than Vin without his happy pills and wakes up at the slightest sound.

I think it's safe to say his blonde locks are going to be a bit more untamed than usual, and it isn't just going to be because I got tangled up in them in my sleep…again. Can I help it if his hair keeps me warmer than my own fur? I think not.

After the heartache I had to go through last night just to get a little shuteye, I was hoping to get some more sleep than normal, even if it was just till seven in the morning. I was all nestled up nice and comfy on the pillow (_near_ Jak's hair) when, wouldn't you know it, disaster struck! I think it follows me like a croco-dog in heat, ya know?

One minute I was on the bed, and the next I'm awoken with a yelp resounding in my sensitive ears and I'm being flung almost all the way across the mattress. Luckily, the end of the bed with its upraised metal frame broke my descent across the room. As I was sailing along I was definitely awake and panicking, my little ottsel brain sensing danger and sending me into hyper drive. My mind has a tendency to do that when, for an unknown reason, I'm thrown into experiencing pain.

"What the fucking hell is going on? I don't recall asking for a fucking wake up call!"

You didn't believe me when I told you I'm not a morning person, did you? Well, I did try to warn you.

"…"

The lack of sirens going off and distressed yells of terror and alarm around me was a clue that nothing was really wrong. From the looks of it, and it's not hard to miss since the sight is right stinking in front of me, Jak had a wake up call of his own. Had I been in a better mood and he'd not just accidentally tried to make me the first ottsel in space, I might have pitied him for the fact his goatee looked funky missing the huge chunk on the side – all thanks to the gurgling Randilyn, who had yanked some of it out while he'd been sleeping – but since I'm hardly what one would call an early bird, I didn't have much sympathy to spare for the big guy.

Note to Jak: never sleep with a kid in your arms. It's dangerous to your physique.

With a sigh, I slumped back against the bed frame and slid down it till I was sitting back against it. Tiredly glancing at the clock its bright, bold numbers read barely a hair under two in the morning. Of all the sucky things that could be thrown my way, this has got to be one of the worst. For me it has to be about as close to the top of my shit list, narrowly beat by the incident with me being turned into the fuzzy wonder that I am (which is a long story that can be saved for another time, like never).

As it turns out, it didn't take very long for the kid to grow tired of looking over Jak's tiny chin hairs, the crybaby resuming her sobbing after tossing the stubs aside. Am I the only one surprised that we haven't drowned in her tears yet?

It still escapes me why that sadistic son-of-a-bitch Torn would want us, of all people, to take care of her, now that I think about it. Er…besides the obvious fact that he's out to kill me and/or make my existence a nearly unbearable one.

Having grown up in a village with a total of three kids, all of which were close to my age, and everyone else being old fogies, there wasn't much interaction with anyone nearly half this girl's age. Even if there was a baby in the community, it's not like anyone would have allowed me near them, most likely in fear of me corrupting them or giving them klutz-kooties. That basically means neither of us have done the whole looking-over-little-ones gig.

Not that sun-kissed boy would know that, but still! We're Haven's number one heroes, big ass fighters, and the same people who piss off the city's hierarchy in the middle of the night and strike fear in this hellhole's sewers. We have better things to be doing for the Underground than watching over some little chick.

I'm sure you're all wondering why I'm complaining, huh? With the kid around and on our backs we haven't had any new missions for almost a whole day. No regular heart-stopping routine – only blue skies and relaxation!

Pfffft, wrong! Sorry, do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred skullgems.

With how this kid can _scream_, I would rather be somewhere doing anything else. Feed me to the metal heads; throw me to the dark eco pits! I'd rather take on Praxis than put up with this.

Torn, the ever helpful bastard that he is, under no uncertain circumstances tossed us out of his sight into one of the rooms, one which, when closed off, is nearly sound proof. Turns out this was planned in advance (whether that's because he knew the baby could cry like you wouldn't believe or just by luck), because there was some equipment for handling a little bundle of joy in it. Necessities like food, clothes, and the all-dreadful reminder, diapers, were tucked away in a small duffle bag on top of a small bedside table.

For the hundredth time I was compelled to say, "You had to ask him about another mission, didn't you?"

I had to shout slightly to be heard, and as I looked back at Jak, it seemed that it didn't matter. The poor boy was dazed and deaf as he was reminded that he was holding a person in his arms and not some deadly bomb. Not that I blame him or anything. The guy is completely out of his element here. You can tell my friend to shoot or take out whole metal head mobs, but socially, he's as inept as a hermit. You'd have better luck with him in a tank full of those good old Lurker Sharks than taking care of anybody, big or small.

Looking at him still, he looked kind of pathetic actually, sitting there and taking the sobbing abuse Randilyn was dishing out in massive waves without a clue. With a look like that going for him, it was a little hard for even my morning persona to ignore him, and considering we're both together in this mess… Sigh. I guess now would be a good time to muster up all my will and go headlong into this thing, huh? If it were me trying to ignore myself, it'd be one thing, but ignoring the screeching as I hopped up onto Jak's shoulder? Near impossible. I managed to get reasonably comfortable in a matter of seconds anyway, at least.

Thinking quickly back to those olden days when I was taller than a couple feet and had buck teeth able to crack open soda pop bottles, there were a couple instances when I'd been desperate and had gone to Keira, the green-haired mechanic extraordinaire, to play with when Jak had gotten hurt enough to be bedridden for about two days. At the time, Keira was a real girl, the kind with dolls and tea sets instead of wrenches and oil grease.

Suffice it to say, in those couple of days without Jak I learned more than enough about little kids and house than I ever wanted to know, and if I'd learned anything, it had to be that babies usually run on three major things: food, attention, and toiletries. If it wasn't one of those three, we are absolutely doomed.

"Ok…you think she's hungry enough to have breakfast?"

Snapping out of his deafened shock, he juggled around a little and reached over to the small carrier loaded down with stuff. How he could concentrate and look around with that racket is beyond me. He managed to find a pre-made bottle of yacow's milk, which the little girl latched onto like a rabid fangirl to new sexy man-flesh.

Hot damn, am I good or am I good?

Even my buddy here had an expression that said 'wow, that actually worked?' written all over his face. It's not easy to impress him, so I definitely let this go straight to my ego.

"How did you know that's what she wanted?"

Instead of going into a detailed explanation of the principals of having had a mute as a best friend and having to read him like a book on a daily basis, I summed it up as, "I just know what woman want."

Expectedly the other just rolled his eyes before relaxing more into the bed, the rusted metal frame creaking in such a manner that I thought it would break under any more strain.

Up to this point we hadn't had much peace and quiet, so the time was spent trying to recover. If that racket had gone on any longer, I'm sure my ears would have probably started to bleed. Ye gods, we haven't even been at this for a whole day yet and I'm already tired! That might be due to the fact that I was woken up quite rudely, but since that's part of the whole watching-over-the-kid ordeal, I think it counts. I'd most likely gather a collective gasp if anyone knew that my thoughts revolved around 'to hell' and 'with women' at this very moment.

Glancing at my partner, he didn't seem to be minding this as much as myself. From what I'd gathered the guy didn't really like kids – not hate, not dislike, not spite, not loath, just not really care for them – and usually avoided them as much as possible. Not only that, but Jak is the type of guy who gets restless real fast and would rather not sit still for even an hour. He could just be eating and he'd still fidget around like he's got something crawling in his pants.

Which was why it was kind of strange to be seeing him sitting so still and calm…or _calmer_ in the situation we'd been thrust into. Thinking back on it, I don't even know when the last time my friend here had just sat back and smelled the roses. The last I could recall was at least back in Sandover… Boy, some friend I am to just be noticing this.

"She's so tiny."

Coming out of my fast-paced musings, I just about missed what he'd said. The words were so soft I'd nearly missed them anyway. Tilting my head, I had to agree; little 'R' was just a few inches shorter than myself (and I'm _short_, remember?) and close to getting lost in Jak's enormously muscled arms.

"Babies normally are, man."

A soft crackling noise broke the serene scene going on, signaling that her meal was over. Yay, we're back to the drawing board! I'm looking so forward to it my ears are already beginning to bleed on their own. As if on cue, the silence was ruined the second she angrily threw the empty bottle from her grasp, just narrowly missing my midriff as the jug came hurtling in my direction. The chick has good aim; I'll give her that.

Amused, my buddy looked at me as sobs started to fill the room, "Ok, ladies' man, what does she want now?"

Hah, that's so funny I could just cry. See what happens when you open your big mouth, kiddies?

Food was down, which could only mean that what was bothering her was attention deprivation, a dirty diaper, or both. For my sanity's sake, I hope it's only the former.

Lifting my fingers to my temples, I made a show of trying to read her mind, "She wants…she wants…a diamond ring? Wait, no, a chew ring! That's the ticket."

Rummaging around in the bag this time, I miraculously managed to find one in the mess that is the baby's realm of supplies. In the end it didn't really matter, for when I handed it to her she examined the toy with a critical eye and tossed it away in disgust before resuming her bawling.

"Eheh…I meant rattle. Yeah, that's what she wants!"

And so on and so forth it went. Our attempts to keep her occupied enough to stop crying for five seconds was a bum and a half. She threw away the rattle, tried to strangle me with her link-a-doos, beat me with her toy hammer, and whacked me with her stuffed croco-dog. Why me? Jeebus, I think I'm sporting more bruises than if I'd gone on five of Torn's missions and a couple from Onin! Pretty pathetic if you ask me.

The kid seemed to be enjoying it; in fact, I think she was doing it on purpose. No, after the next toy tossed my way and her giggle fits, I was sure of it. How many does she _have_, anyway?

Is this Torn's child and I wasn't informed about it? I mean, he didn't say it wasn't his, he only said we were delivering her to her legal guardian, which could mean…_ew_. Ew ew fucking ew oh my god I don't believe that prick could get laid before me just ew! Quick Daxter, think happy thoughts! Mosey along to your blissful place where no thoughts of icky Torn doing the horizontal tango with anyone can torment you!

God, I think that mental image is going to haunt me for the rest of my life.

_Smack_.

If this little girl doesn't kill me first. Growling softly, I was surprised when the baby whimpered instead of going into another round of crying, her big round eyes welling up with even more tears… I guess girls are just born with the ability to beat the hell out of a guy then make him feel like worse crap by just looking at him for just thinking about fighting back.

"Dax, you're scaring her!"

"Well I'm sorry! It's not like you've gotten-!"As I turned to defend myself I came face to face with Jak, his uneven facial hair staring me right in the face. Oh, right, I guess he does know the meaning of pain though torture by child-watching.

Whatever argument the big guy and I had going was crashed as something worse than the perfume of the sewers filled the air, my sensitive nose doing the hula as it picked up the horrid smell right away.

…

Heh, and it isn't even past four in the morning yet.

* * *

To be Continued… 


	3. Chapter Three: False to Yesterday

Guardian-ad-litem

By Snare-chan

**Pairings**: None  
**Ratings**: PG-13  
**Category(ies)**: General/slight AU  
**Warning(s)**: Cussing  
**Status**: Continuation, 3/5  
**Summary**: When we'd first joined the Underground things were simple – ask for your orders, go out and shoot things, then come back and do it all over again. But this one?

**Notes**: Wow, I don't think I've ever received so many great reviews before! It's so neat to come home from school, all tuckered out from the annoyance that are guaranteed in my not-so-demanding-schedule-but-I'll-say-it-is, and see all the funny and constructive comments you people have. I feel so…empowered, like I could take on…well, maybe not. I'll just leave all the fighting to Jak and I'll write this here fic – sounds like a fair deal, ne?

Not really much else to say this time around besides the fact that I think, out of all the chapters, this one was the most enjoyable of them all to write. The timing might seem a little awkward at first, but hey, at least I'm putting more detail in here than in the cut scenes in the game. It's always seemed kind of awkward to have a five second cinematic scene in the game from time-to-time, but eh, that might just be me.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Jak II; wish I did like everybody else. They should put Jak II in stock, then I'd buy it all!

**Dedication**: To my coolest, bestest guy friend ever. If it weren't for him I wouldn't have gotten nearly as far as I have with my Jak II game, which means this story would suck even more than it might already because I'd know Jak shit about what's going on. ;D

* * *

I don't know how I managed it, but someway, somehow I'd gotten around to falling asleep again. It could have been due to all of the excitement, hard work, or being woken up _way_ before the crack of dawn…or was it yesterday? I don't really know anymore, did I sleep through it or is yesterday actually still today? Well whatever point in time it is I must have been more tired than I'd originally thought to fall asleep during any racket the child in our midst made. I guess when you live in a hustling, bustling metropolis like Haven City you kind of learn to sleep wherever you can, when you can.

That's not the weird thing, though. What is would be the fact that I actually _slept_. Like, really slept. No nightmares, no late night cry-fests, no more tail pulling, no interruptions. Period.

With that realization, ladies and gentlemen, it was like having a cold slap to the face. If there had been no explosions, guns going off in the distance, random flashes of light, shadowy presences, unusual sudden noises, or even a baby's cry…then why had I even bothered to wake up when I could be using this once-in-a-blue-moon free time more efficiently, like for more sleep?

Maybe that's just it. It's not that something had woken me up, it's because _nothing had_ woken me up. How screwed up is that?

Cautiously peeking one lazy eye open to be sure I wasn't missing out on something, such as a metal head staring me in the face or the building being gone, I let the blurry images around me collect and form into the room I'd been sharing. Don't give me that look; people have told me I'm a heavy sleeper, so you can never tell if something bad was going on while you were counting sheep.

My vision wasn't greeted with anything blue-eyed, small, or destroyed, so that must count for something. For as far I could see, it was pretty dark in the old room, which was now taking on the pungent smell of baby powder and could use some major redesigning. Some new walls, a couple coats of paint, a little bit of décor…and some little bit of _everything_ might make the place into more of an eyesore than a war zone.

Turning my head a little bit I unfurled my ears and took a better look around. The first thing I spotted was, and I'll be damned, talk about your Kodak moment! On the other side of the bed stood Jak; the big lug gently rocking the little kid in his arms all natural-like as he fed her. He still looked a little unsure, but it was all a super improvement from yesterday (if that much time had passed anyway. I'm not awake enough to be quite sure yet). I mean awww guys; I'm getting all teary eyed here!

Whether I was still too tired to be thinking straight or the moment was just too cute and sweet and precious but…the thing was, the whole matter was so serene and peaceful, something so unlike what I'd grown used to here, that I kind of felt at rest. After getting a front row seat on more raids than I have fur and seeing things that I'm sure will come back to haunt me, I forget that there are still good things in life.

Um…besides beer, babes, and buddies. Heheh.

This right here just proves that Jak would make one kick ass dad. I mean, how many kids could say their old man fights for the Underground, has more gun upgrades than he has shirts _and_ can turn into a one-man killing machine? Not many, I'm sure.

…

I did not just think 'cute' and 'Jak' and mushy, girly stuff did I? Ick, I did! Watching over the kid has made me soft overnight! What will the ladies think if they hear?

The silence was suddenly filled with the shrill cry of an unhappy baby, the sound helping to wake me up faster than having a bucket full of scolding hot water thrown at my face. Instantly, my ears pulled back in an attempt to make it _stop oh my god make it stop_, but it was absolutely useless. I could be inside a soundproof tank and still have to put up with her crying.

Have I emphasized the amount of her whining yet? Because I can go on, you know; she does sob a whole lot.

Shaking my head weakly, I leapt from the bed and onto Jak's shoulder; the guy barely twitching at my presence by his head. He's an observant dude, so knowing him, he'd already figured out I was awake and as ready as I'd ever be.

We didn't even have to exchange a word, my limp tail offering itself up to her tiny, iron-like grasp as soon as I'd gotten comfortable. Amazing what I'll do to please a gal…

I must have had the most miserable look on my face, which makes sense since having my tail used as a pacifier isn't exactly the most pleasurable occurrence to happen to me, because even Jak was giving me an apologetic look.

"Don't worry, Dax; we only have her for a couple more hours."

I'm going to pretend I didn't hear any wistful tone in what he just said.

Glancing at the clock proved that it was indeed tomorrow and not yesterday, and from what I could read, the flashing red numbers on the clock said we had about an hour to kill before drop-off. The kid must know this, I mean, why else would she finally play goody-good for my sidekick and me?

Man, I hate it how the little snots can do that! It's like they're born with an annoying switch that doesn't turn off till puberty, and then the masses part and either go into über angry-at-the-entire-universe mode or become a raging sack of hormones. Sounds familiar, huh?

"How's she been holding up, big guy?"

Jak shrugged, the bobbing up and down momentarily releasing my tail before it was snatched back. "She's calmed down a bit, so we should be able to move her fine."

I managed to keep uh… the kid 'occupied' while Jak rummaged around and gathered all of her belongings. How he managed to fit all of it back into the bag was beyond me (then again, how it all got in there in the first place was also beyond me), and he shifted it over his opposite shoulder. The weight alone almost toppled him over, his body and the bag having to wrestle a bit for balance before we were able to finally head out the door.

Only to find Torn standing there.

"ECK!"

For the record that wasn't me, it was Randilyn. For real.

"Jeeze man, do you always stand in front of doors like the freaking boogeyman? Get a hobby!"

The brunette simply snorted before slowly looking us up and down. At first I got the creepy feeling he was checking Jak out before realizing what a sight we must be. A renegade with a kid tucked in one arm and an ottsel with his tail getting sucked off. We were just asking to be made fun of. I can feel it stamped all over us. If he had anything to say, Torn kept it to himself for once, his right hand whipping out to offer us a single slip of paper, like he was offering us a cigar. Wouldn't that be the day.

"Here are the exact coordinates. Try not to get too lost."

"Don't get lost he says…is it just me or do you always care this much?"

"Just get moving; you're wasting time!"

Having received that tearful farewell, we were out of the stuffy place and out into an even stuffier place, the fumes of machines outside the hideout clogging the air around us. Instinctively, I couldn't help but wriggle my nose at it, still not used to the stench of the city even after having lived in it for two years. Each and every time I took a lively stroll outside, it was like walking through an oven chocked full of axel grease.

Near the entrance of the alleyway, somebody had been kind enough to retrieve for us a two-seated zoomer; the hunk of junk one of those bright neon-ish green looking contraptions that stuck out like a sore thumb. The thing had to have been stolen; no one would be insane enough to actually buy one of these ugly things and drive it around town with their dignity intact.

It had to have been Torn's idea to get us one of these.

Moving over to get ourselves settled, we quickly discovered it was a good thing that we'd started out early, because this was turning out to be more complicated than we'd thought. She wouldn't let go of my tail without a fight, and even then whenever we tried to set her down to get situated, she'd make a racket that could wake the dead. It was finally just decided that I'd have to sit with her down in the seat.

I wasn't comfortable with this at all. For one thing, if I wasn't up there then who was going to keep an eye out for buildings and pedestrians? Jak wasn't necessarily _careless_ - he knew that no ride meant a longer and more drawn out mission - but he wasn't exactly perceptive enough to come to terms with the fact that Krimzon Guards aren't bowling pins. For another, I was now stuck in a confined space with a kid who loses one-half her body weight after every feeding and enjoys using my tail as one of her chew toys.

"Hey, Jak?"

The vehicle lurched slightly with a cluttered, smoke-filled sputter as he kick-started it, my view of the sky getting a whole lot closer as he moved it into the upper zone. "Yeah?"

"I uh…know you like to ride these babies fast and furious, but do you think you could try and not be your racer self for one day? I'd prefer not to scar the kid for life."

"Right."

"I'm serious Jak. I don't want to go hurdling into any walls, get my fur dry cleaned _or_ have to explain to this girl's mom that her kid got fried in a freak speeding accident." I made sure to add as much deadpan to my voice as ottsel-ly possible, my voice dropping at least an octave or two to make my point.

"You worry too much. Just keep on eye on her and we'll be there in no time, I promise."

Flashing me a reassuring smile from above, he returned his eyes to the road. His words may have been slightly comforting, since I've never known him to break a promise, but this piece of scrap metal was hardly trustworthy. For a moment, I sat tensed and huddled in the extra seat, the crawler still gnawing on my fifth limb like there was no tomorrow. Once we'd taken a few smooth turns without any mishaps I started to relax, though. Down inside the seat I could just make out Jak's effort to be patient with the crowds of other drivers and not go full throttle with the accelerator, and that's saying a lot when it concerns a guy like my friend here.

Perhaps Jak is right. Maybe I do worry too much.

_Screech_.

"Oh fuck."

That simple phrase was barely a whisper, but my ears picked it up like it was a gunshot. Without even thinking about it, I double-checked to see that Randilyn was all buckled up.

Peeking my head over the edge of the seat, I had a general idea of what had gone wrong. I'd felt the sudden pull as he'd tried to break in time, the gentle tap as we barely nudged whatever it was in front of us… I knew, oh I knew, we were screwed – no, _gangbanged_. Without even looking, I probably could have realized we'd run into one of those smooth, ruby red Krimzon Guard high-speed chase zoomers you see on television all the time, what was it now…'KG's Most Dangerous Chases' or something like that?

A single word wasn't uttered as guard #37077190-whatever started on his bike-like vehicle and looked back at us over his shoulder, then at his scratched up paint job, then back up at us.

Jak and I put on our most sincere and innocent smiles.

The Krimzon Guard hit the red alert button and sounded the alarm.

My friend wasted no more time with him, his foot slamming down on the pedal that sent us into a gut lurching downward motion, then full speed ahead. The whole ordeal nearly had me careening out of my seat. Most people were smart and dive-bombed out of our way; for everyone else we're only lucky that most of them were red units as we sped through the streets.

"I thought I told you to drive safe!"

"You told me to drive slow, and I did!"

Only a friend of mine would take a time like this to be a smartass. Had we even been driving for ten minutes? Five? This has _got_ to be a new record. I was prepared to tell Jak just that, my head popping up a little higher to be heard over the wind. In a second, I was pulling my head back inside the zoomer just as fast as an electronic blast narrowly missed lobbing my head clean off my shoulders. A sharp turn had the kid and I bouncing around in the seat like rubber balls a couple seconds after I'd gone back down.

If she started to cry, I think my ears would start to cry right along with her.

"This can't possibly get much worse," I mumbled, my tiny paws hanging onto the kid both for support and in hopes of comforting her enough to keep her from breaking down, "Eh kid…don't cry! We'll be there in awhile, you'll see!"

Then thick puffs of smoke filled the air, the black clouds and pungent smell alerting me to the condition of our vehicle. If you don't know, when one of these puppies begins to smoke like that, it's trouble with a capital 'T,' AKA: the zoomer is about to go supernova and blow up into itty-bitty pieces of dust.

'Abandon ship' sounds good right about now.

"Dax!"

See? Jak agrees with me, too.

With one minute to spare, Jak reached over and grabbed us both before scrambling over the side. Our ride just kept on going, shortly crashing right against a wall and becoming a gigantic pancake. One that's on fire and shooting shrapnel all over the place. It's what's for breakfast.

"Wow, talk about a close-"

"Hey you, stop right there!"

Practically hissing, I decided to just keep my mouth shut for the remainder of this mission. Obviously it was only causing us nothing but more bad luck than usual. Looking over my shoulder confirmed this as a large mass of those good-old neighborhood 'men in red' decided it would be neat to hunt down and overpower the light-haired man holding a couple-foot-nothing that has no idea how to say 'Krimzon Guard,' much less know what one is, and carrying yours truly on his shoulder. These guys really don't play fair at all, do they?

Enemy fire started filling the streets as Jak ran left and right to avoid getting hit, the attacks coming at us like a rainstorm – thunder, lightning and all. Taking another nervous glance over my shoulder, one that I knew I'd regret shortly, I clung to Jak's hair as I noted just how many of those red tin cans were actually coming after us now. It was like one big tidal wave of red blood, and that lovely little visual was _not_ what I needed right this moment. Nearly gagging, I turned back to face forward, my head dipping a little to help with Jak's balance.

And what do my eyes behold in front of us? The final stretch to the water slums, of course! Oh Precursors, what a sight for sore eyes.

Then all I saw was dirt and grime.

Not knowing what had gone wrong, I was left dazed and blinking rapidly to get my bearings back, my brain processing the pain in my front and along my left cheek. Judging by my current position I think it's safe to say I'd fallen off, though exactly how that had happened I was still trying to figure out. First things first would most likely be to remember how to get up…I use my goggles to do that, right? Or maybe it's my shoulder; I have one of those, if I remember correctly.

Who am I again?

Weakly, I turned my head to spot Jak curled up a little, the edge of his hair just in my line vision. I'd recognize those strands anywhere since everyone else around this town doesn't have anything remotely blonde looking without using a bottle, so it had to be him, and he was on the ground. Like me. Probably feeling extreme pain. Like me. He's also not moving. _Unlike_ me.

Oh that's right, I use my hind legs to walk! Scrambling up as fast as my body would permit with what pride I had left after face planting to the ground like a sack of potatoes, I moved over to his side to check and see if he was all in working order. I had to drag myself a little over his shoulder since walking around would take too long. Sad, yes; less painful, even more yes.

I shook his arm slightly, the limb only tensing and curling tighter around the baby in his arms. The kid looked alright enough, or at least not resembling a morsel that had been chucked into a fire pit, chewed up like cud, then spit back out onto its rusty dish to be covered in dark eco sauce. Another nice visual brought to you by me, myself, and I.

"Jak? Jak! Hey buddy, now is not a good time for a nap!"

What was I supposed to say? 'Oh, hi pal, are you hurt? Feeling a little under the weather? In need of some help? Yeah, I noticed that you should be Swiss cheese by now and feel like you have a one-ton rock on your chest. I was just wondering." Yeah, that would go over so well. As well as getting Torn to wear a frilly pink tutu.

Tug.

"Jak, come on."

Tug, tug.

"Jak buddy, the big reds are still following us."

_Tug_.

"Come on man, at least open your eyes!"

That must have been the magic phrase of the day, because those baby blues were snapping open and peering right through me. The thing is, you see, they weren't exactly _blue_ anymore. Try a jet onyx black.

Hm. Well shit. Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit I don't think I can say this enough oh shit! 'Oh shit' doesn't even_ cover_ this level of shitty-ness!

I watched as Jak's hair did an instant bleach thing, his nails shot out into well-manicured talons, and his skin turned into that ashy grayish purple that gave me the impression that he was of the walking dead. As he released a guttural growl his sharp incisors flashed, the added touch only improving his destroyer image.

This is his evil alter ego; _this_ is Dark Jak.

The change was quicker than I can ever remember, the shift in Jak like the blink of an eye. It was so fast that if you did so much as blink, you'd miss it and be dead. After the couple of times that he's done this, I still can't help but back off, not necessarily from fear, but more out of surprise. Not much in this town can scare you after a while, even flesh-rendering, bipolar best friends. That or it's just a hero thing.

What soldiers had caught up to us hesitated, some of them even stepping away in uncertainty, though it's rather late for that now. They might as well bend down and around to kiss their asses goodbye because _no one_ gets my buddy this mad and lives long enough to tell about it. Not metal heads, not Baron Praxis (well ok, he did live, but he probably wished he wasn't alive after he got his butt handed back to him); not even getting struck down by anything short of _himself_ could stop him when he's like this.

Jak stood up gradually, his dark pools for eyes peering at his shattered shoulder plate, then at the kid crying in his arms. Where the metal had been struck, a black char mark smoldered slightly, a large crack running from the strike to the bottom edge. Had the guy not been wearing it, the kid would be dead, probably shot right in the head.

And Dark Jak knew this.

His lips drew back in a pissed off snarl, the sound soon accompanied by the soft hiss of dark eco as it collected around him and set him off like a purple beacon. As he lifted his free hand, he didn't even bother to jump, his fist slamming down into the ground with enough force to add another pothole to the already broken-up road. I had about five seconds to get back up onto his shoulder or else become BBQ orange fluff.

Citizens of Haven City might not have been scared before – chases involving the KGs and the violence that would often follow were a very common practice around these parts – but they were screaming in horror now. With the dramatic entrance eco-boy here made, the chaos and destruction that was happening as we speak would shock me white, too, if I was defenseless.

More units of Krimzon Guards came rushing in from all directions, replacing the ones Jak had just destroyed. Soon the whole place was filled with electricity, enough to rival the static my fur could accumulate in one night's sleep as the guards fired off rounds at us and Dark Jak returned the favor. The girl and myself were right in the middle of it all, and once again I had to wonder, 'How do we get into these messes anyway?' This was supposed to be a simple mission; this was supposed to take only a couple of minutes. This was not the case.

My paws were hanging on to the point where I think I'd broken through the fabric of his shirt as tall, dark, and gruesome became airborne, his crouching form shooting up from the streets to the upper levels in one bound. He almost overshot as he vaulted onto a zoomer and its occupant who was stupid enough to pass through a danger zone at a time like this. Backhanding the driver out with one sweep of his arm, he didn't bother with the controls; instead, he…surfed on it.

I kid you not. It would seem that it doesn't matter what form my friend's in, he's still innovative. This was a very good thing, as we were leaving the armored police behind in our dust. KGs were still stalking us of course, but we finally entered the damn water slums, the sector never having felt as far away as it had today.

Does D.J. here know how to stop, perchance?

Taking a daring leap off of the zoomer and making a dramatic arc through the air the vehicle made a nosedive behind us, the machine combusting as it ran directly into one of the many spiraling, wooden walkways underneath us. I suppose that answers that question.

There was some quick roof-hopping before the big guy decided to sit back against one of the back parts, managing to hide from any passing patrol groups that might spot us until the alarm stopped sounding in the background. For once even I was silent, holding my breath so as not to alert any of those goobers from before that we were still nearby and sitting targets for them to take out like last week's leftover dinner.

My ears swiveled around to pick up the sounds of metallic wails but when no sirens could be heard, I knew they'd given up. Took the stubborn bastards long enough if you ask me, considering this whole mess was all due to a scratch on a government-paid vehicle _anyway_. I released a breath I didn't know I'd been holding and turned back to my partner, about to say something smooth and cool and heroic sounding…

Only to come face to face with a Jak that still wasn't Jak. He hadn't changed back, even when the danger had passed, even when he should be running on empty and be falling into an unconscious heap.

For some strange reason, I still wish it was yesterday.

* * *

To Be Continued…

**A/N**: Gawd I love writing Dark Jak, being able to should be illegal or something. Just because it's too much fun. It's a pity you don't really see much of that dark alter ego in Jak II except when you summon him during a battle or something. In the fandom world he sure seems to be titled quite the killer, despite the fact the metal heads do more damage than ole DJ here, but that's a rant for another time. XD;


	4. Chapter Four: Sound Out

Guardian-ad-litem

By Snare-chan

**Pairings**: None  
**Ratings**: PG-13  
**Category(ies)**: General/slight AU  
**Warning(s)**: Cussing,  
**Status**: Continuation, 4/5  
**Summary**: When we'd first joined the Underground things were simple – ask for your orders, go out and shoot things, then come back and do it all over again. But this one?

**Notes**: We're now on the final stretch, only one more chapter to go and then this fic is all done! Actually, the ending of this could be considered a good stopping point for the story (and the longest to boot – weighing in at 10 whole pages!), but I thought I'd be nice and add a bit more closure to the thing.

So tune in next time for the epilogue!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Jak II; wish I did like everybody else. They should put Jak II in stock, then I'd buy it all!

**Dedication**: To my coolest, bestest guy friend ever. If it weren't for him I wouldn't have gotten nearly as far as I have with my Jak II game, which means this story would suck even more than it might already because I'd know Jak shit about what's going on. ;D

* * *

I gulped, the sound filling in the silence - besides the normal background noise of people chattering and motors running in the distance. Remember me saying that I wasn't really that worried about Dark Jak? Well I lied, sort of. He's not so scary when he's all up and fighting things, because then he's distracted on other, more demanding matters, but here there isn't exactly anything that can take his mind off say…the baby and me.

Speaking of, the kid seemed to be getting restless again and was starting to blubber and whimper in his arms. Any time now, she'd be announcing to the world our position, and if my hunch is right, then Jak's hyped up super ears will be picking it up twice as bad as he would with his regular sense of hearing. That can only mean he's going to get irritated, and an irritated Dark Jak equals unparalleled danger up the wang.

"Wah…wah…WAAAAAAH!"

I hate it when I'm right in situations like this. Why can't I be right about other things, like completing a mission in the given time frame with no mishaps? _That_ would be cool.

Under me, D. Jak's shoulders squared and tensed, his entire posture turning defensive as he snarled down at the wailing bundle in his arms. Guessing by how the light flickered off those menacing orbs, I suspected he was looking her up and down, maybe checking for injuries or a good point to keep her quiet, before he swiped the cloth aside to get a better look. The swift motion almost sent my heart fluttering into cardiac arrest, my first initial thoughts being that he was going to shut her up permanently with one slash of his claws. I'm not sure if I was just looking too much into it, but I think he was actually being careful not to use them when he did that. He used the sides of his fingers and the pad of his thumb to get it out of the way instead.

Randilyn blinked owlishly up at us and stopped her howls when her cover was pulled aside. I guess she didn't know what to make of him either. Unlike me and my natural instinct to avoid all hazardous situations, kids these days seem to lack such things at birth, because as he tilted his head closer to examine her…she whapped him on the nose.

Oh.

My.

God.

She just hit Dark Jak on the nose. She balled up her tiny fist and whapped him one in the face, just like that. One look and WHAM, BAM, THANK YOU, MA'AM. Now he's going to go A.W.O.L. like he does to red things and have some fucking baby-back ribs oh my god!

Sucking in a horrified gasp, I prepared to do something drastic, like strangle him with my tail if he tried anything lethal, but he only snorted and rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. The guy isn't used to being stood up to like that if you couldn't tell, which is why it stands to reason that he should be trying to throw her over a pit and eat her innards. Maybe she'd hit him harder than I thought and dazed him? I can only hope.

Then without warning we were falling over and rolling down the rusted tin roof as the dark one resided and let Jak deal with the mess. To my horror, we hung on by the very edge of it, bordering on tipping over and taking a big drink for a few precious seconds before we dived head first into the dirty water. Ironically, we missed landing on a walkway by just a couple inches, our landing into the murky depths causing a big splash.

As terrified as I was about Jak, I knew I'd really be afraid if I left the kid. Grabbing her first, I managed to swim to the surface and get a big whiff of smog filled air. I found that this tiny body of mine was good for something as I tilted backwards and was able to float on my back, the kid on my chest (and attempting to drown the two of us). Thank you, water-resistant fur!

She calmed as I lifted us up and over onto a nearby dock. I was breathless from the effort of having to carrying her around (how does Jak manage to do it?) and flopped back against the rotting wood as I attempted to catch my breath. When nothing else followed I lifted up my head.

Looking over the side, I really began to worry when all I saw was air bubbles, then fewer and fewer until…there were none. Nervously I bit my lip as my eyes darted across the entire surface of the water, looking for anything that might resemble my partner. There wasn't a single ripple.

Jak couldn't have just…

My best friend…oh my God, not my _best friend_. Of all the things…of all the ways to go, why did he have to go out like this? Not in a brawl, or from a stab wound that would later lead to gangrene, or against 1,000 metal heads or against Baron Praxis or in a race against Erol. He didn't have a hero's death. He had some sucky mishap that led to him dying. That was it.

Numbly, I sat back on my haunches and brushed against Randilyn's blanket. Turning my head to look at her she ogled me slightly before her bottom lip began to tremble, then she let it all go as she seemed to catch on that something was amiss. She must miss Jak too, and weakly I took her into my scrawny arms, holding her close. This time, I was crying with her.

No one ever told me boys weren't supposed to cry. It had been something I'd always kind of known, deep down inside, that was meant to be followed because that's how society viewed it. It was an unwritten rule somewhere in the universe, so whenever I'd get hurt or scraped I wouldn't shed a tear. Whining and complaining would follow, but never anything resembling a sob or a whimper.

But does this look like a face that cares? No, it's not, because I _don't_ care. I just lost the closest thing to a best friend a person, an ottsel, could ask for. We've been through everything together, from when we were little tots to after we'd busted out of jail. Things like this aren't supposed to happen this way; there had to be some rule out in the stars that said so. What just added salt to the wound was that there was nothing I could do. Jak had risked life and limb for me time and time again, and what do I go and do in his time of need? I watch him drown.

Ok, so now I'm bawling bucket-loads. I was making such a racket that I didn't even notice the wet splosh sound of something behind me.

"Jak you stupid _blonde_, now look at what you went and did!" I sobbed into Randilyn's pink covers, "I told you, I told you to be careful! But you never listen, never!"

"Dax?"

"And now look at me! I'm hearing your voice everywhere - well listen up, good buddy, from wherever you are! I'll finish this mission, just you watch and see! In your name I'll do it and…"

Stop. Rewind. Pause.

Rapidly, I turned my entire body around, the sight of a sopping wet, water-logged best bud hanging over the edge of the wooden platform greeting me. I rubbed absently at my eyes, unsure if I was going insane and seeing things or if Jak was really there, but the weight in my arms spoke in joyful gibberish and giggled happily as she caught sight of him too. So either we're both going crazy or he's alive.

"JAK!"

With my will and energy completely restored, I pounced him like he was a free six-pack of beer, my entire body managing to wrap around his face and stick to him like a fly to flypaper. He is _so _not going anywhere without me there with him, so just try and take him from me - that means you, destiny; I dare you to try that kind of stunt again. Hiss hiss.

"Dax…can't breathe…"

"Dun care…" I mumbled, my face snuffling his still-wet hair. Musky, with a hint of gunpowder, day old sweat and grease, and that unmistakable scent that is just _Jak_. Oh yeah, baby, this is him alright. Jak's the only one I know who can stink this good!

He coughed softly, and after figuring out that I was not going to remove myself cleanly from his neck and face, he pushed himself out of the water onto the dry-ish walkway, which wasn't easy. The kid's bag, however it had survived, probably weighed a ton by now with all the water the stuffed toys and the fabric had sucked up like some mutant sponge. Once he was done wringing out his drenched-through clothes, he pried me off his face, freeing himself and the kid from my mighty death grip.

"So where's the drop off point?"

Oh, right, the mission. I must have forgotten all about it in the moment I found out my sidekick hadn't died via suffocation. Getting comfy on his shoulder (boy, for a moment there I thought I'd never be sitting on this perch ever again!) I pulled out the slip of paper Torn had given to us out from under my goggles. The material was soaked and needed a little work to open without tearing it to shreds. Turning it this way and that I'm a bit embarrassed to say that it didn't make that much sense anymore, the only thing legible on it being the numbers 606. It nighttime didn't help much either.

"Know anyplace with the numbers 606 on it?"

Our heads tilted left.

Our heads tilted right.

Shaking his head, Jak started forward, our eyes peeled for anything resembling the scribbles in my paws. We'd covered about half the cluttered area and then some before coming even remotely close to the right place. The buildings weren't in any sense of order and most of the numbers (if there were any) were washed, rotted, scraped, or torn off all together.

My internal clock was telling me that at least several hours had passed before we stopped in front of a broken down, nearly rotted-through wooden shack from your worst nightmare that was, of all places, situated very close to the entrance of the water slums. The place sort of reminded me of where bad things happen to you late at night, like where ghosts and ghouls hide out, waiting to snatch you from your bed and drag you inside to…

Taking a step forward, the stairs creaked under Jak's heavy weight, the creepiness factor of the place going up several notches on the freak-o-meter. Unknowingly, I crouched tighter on my buddy's shoulder as he knocked, the only thing to respond being a dull, hollowed echo.

"Whelp, looks like nobody is home, better report back to Torn!"

Instead of listening to me like he should, Jak pushed against the door. It creaked on un-oiled hinges. To Jak this seemed like a good enough invitation to go inside.

"Or you could uh…just do that."

The door slammed shut behind us. Instantly my ottsel instincts told me that wasn't a good thing, because now we were trapped like rats in a place we've never been to with very little light to see by, even for me. I think the fur on my back was starting to stick up on end, too.

"Hello?"

Venturing deeper inside, I expected nothing more than an empty room filled with more moldy wood, or maybe some dingy furniture that's more moth food than something worth sitting on, but was surprised to see a laboratory in its place. Beakers filled with bubbling chemicals, test tubes, scientific tools, contraptions of all shapes and sizes…you name it, this kooky example of a mad scientist's lab had it. The place was so cramped with equipment that my tail almost knocked over a nearby set of wires that were sticking off a shelf just above.

"Anyone here?"

"AHAH!"

Jumping through the roof and back, Jak whipped around, a man in a dirtied white lab coat that strangely resembled Vin stood in the place we'd just walked through. How had the guy gotten there without even me hearing it? I swear, the longer we stay, the scarier it seems to get.

"…Vinny boy? I didn't know you were into the whole mad scientist gig." I was the first to speak after the guy's announcement, the silence making me feel very self-conscious. No noise usually means danger in my book.

"Vin…? Oh, me you mean?" the other asked hurriedly, his gloved fingers removing his glasses to clean them briskly, "N-no…I'm Fin. Are you referring to the guy at the Power Station? He's actually my uncle's brother's half-sister's dog's son's owner's second cousin twice removed, on his mother's brother's grandfather's aunt's nephew's side, though I've heard we could be mistaken for twins."

The other laughed lightly, though Jak and I just exchanged weirded-out glances. Lately it seemed like everyone was connected in this place, one way or another.

"Eheh…anyway, enough about my family tree. Is that my new test subject?"

"Test subject…?" Jak held back as the other reached to take Randilyn from him, his eyes hardening at the words 'test' and 'subject'. Looking down at her in his arms, it didn't seem she wanted to be picked up by this Fin guy either, her tiny hands fisting in my friend's tunic. For that matter, she'd been strangely silent ever since we'd arrived.

With his spectacles back on it was hard to figure out what kind of expression the guy was giving us, but from the feel of it he was genially confused.

"Yes…weren't you informed about what I do here for the Baron?"

In one fluid motion, Jak had his gun out and clipped to shoot. He'd picked the red one, his Scatter Gun. It usually took two hits to kill an enemy due to it's more-blunt-than-sharp attack, but at close range it would be brutal to be hit with. Good choice, Jak. Unfortunately, it didn't have any ammo left in it since we _still_ hadn't restocked, but unless we were forced to shoot, Fin wouldn't have to know that.

"W-what are you doing!"

"Enlighten me; what exactly _do _you do for our lovely Baron?"

Steel lined his voice as he hissed out the command, and for good reason. There are two things about Jak that you have to understand. One is that he was unjustly held prisoner by the high and mighty boss of the city, Baron Praxis, and tortured every at least every day with dark eco. The second is that he hates Wumpbees. A lot. That second fact might not hold a lot of significance now, but I thought I might as well warn you.

"I-I-I!"

"Spit it out!"

Fin yelped and cowered back, his voice becoming high-pitched as Jak continued to threaten him with his weapon. "I-I test the early e-effects of eco on the human b-body, things like that!"

"Is that all?" my partner drawled, his finger twitching on the trigger, "Because if you're not telling me everything…"

The other man 'eep'ed, his hands covering his head as if it could actually protect him. How sorry he'd be to find out that he'd still be blown into a bloody pulp.

"A-and a little dabbling w-with weapons, eco c-conservation…but that's it, I mean it!"

Looking over to one of the tables, Jak nodded towards a large beaker filled with bubbling red liquid, "What about that there; what's that do?"

"It's a…ah…like napalm, a l-liquefied explosive with a h-high destructive capability. W-why?"

Smiling, he made a careless sweep of his hand and smashed the bottle with the tip of his gun, the entire table and side of the building catching onto fire instantaneously. Go get the marshmallows, Georgie!

"Oops; I guess I'm not supposed to use it inside."

Fin gaped at him, his eyebrows shooting up to touch the tips of his white and receding hairline as flames started to lick around us all. The guy almost resembled a fish out of water, come to think of it. Then he was screaming, shrilly like a little schoolgirl, and backing away towards the door.

"Oh my goodness, do you know what you've just _done_! You've just destroyed twelve years of hard work, you could set the entire water slums on fire o-or…!"

He started to hyperventilate as Jak grabbed him by the lapels of his coat and dragged him out of the burning building, though why he even bothered, I'm not sure. Personally, I think a guy who experiments on little kids would make good fish food (if any fish even live in the dirtied water of the water slums). Then again, if the fishes do eat his ashes, they might become mutated mad scientists too, so we'd have to burn those fishes, and more fishes would eat those ashes, so we'd have to burn them too…

Yeah, it'd be a lot less trouble to just save the freak.

Dropping the passed-out Fin unceremoniously in front of the makeshift fire pit, we stood there and just watched for a while, since Randilyn seemed to really be enjoying the show. She was even clapping! And smiling! And not crying! Oh, glorious day!

This little stunt of ours created a problem though, now that I thought about it – what in the world do we with her now? With no one to take care of her she was stuck with us, and we aren't exactly in the best position to be raising a kid. Never mind the fact of how pissed Torn is gonna be when he finds out what we did…not that I give a rat's tail, especially after he had us almost hand her over to a nut job.

Jak must have been thinking along the same lines, because he sighed heavily and glanced down at the kid still nestled in his arms. "We had better head back."

Giving Fin a good kick to see if he was even alive the guy spasmed, confirming that he'd live another day to face the Baron's wrath. Without his work he'd sure to either be moved to garbage duty or something just as degrading, if the guards didn't use him as a target for lying there in their way as they made their rounds.

Shrugging with a clear conscious we all silently made out way back, not knowing what else could be said. I had a lot of things I could say, however, none of it felt right. Only silence was required as we made the trek back 'home' to the Underground.

Quietly, I observed our surroundings, realizing what a horrible place this was to raise a kid in. I'd say I don't know why I never thought of all this before, but when you're trying to run higher powers into the dirt things like that tend to escape you.

But looking at it all now…there really wasn't a clean speck of dirt anywhere that wasn't littered with evidence of violence and abuse, everyone minding their own business and so absorbed in it they wouldn't give you a second glance even if your life depended on it, guards covering every cross walk, alley, street corner, airway, and building like hawks waiting to attack… I've known since day one that this is a scary place, but to let a kid play in? Explore? Grow up? It's not just a scary place, it's Hell's playground. I mean, just look over there! A woman is sobbing on her knees for Pete's sake.

"…"

Jak double-taked, his foot stopping in mid-step as he looked from the woman I'd just specified to the building beside her, then at me. I mimicked him, only I looked back at him since it was impossible to look at myself without a mirror or a clone. I didn't get it.

"Dax? Do you still have that slip of paper?"

Blinking once, I reached up to my goggles, retrieving the paper from where I'd stuffed it back for safekeeping. I'm convinced I'm genetically a packrat, if that's what you were wondering. He took it from my tiny fingers, his hand tilting it a little this way and that. Turning it around completely so it read…oh. I looked up at the building, 909 reading on the door in a faint, peeling white paint.

"Huh…whoops."

My partner just glared at me before approaching the young woman who was currently staining her tan shawl with snot and tears. I think I see the resemblance. She didn't appear to notice us at first, and for a couple uncomfortable minutes we just stood over her, waiting for her to look up.

"Hey, toots!"

I'm impatient; bite me.

The nameless gal looked up with a sharp intake of air, her eyes peering through wet fingers to stare at us. Wow, Randilyn's mom sure is a babe… Soft brown eyes, matching chocolate-colored hair. Rawr; if she wasn't a couple years my senior she might just be worth attempting to woo with my animal magnetism!

I started back as she went shooting to her feet, another surprised sound escaping her lips.

"Oh my!" With the care only a mother could muster, she took the kid from Jak's arms, wrapping Randilyn in a warm embrace and cuddling her, cooing and whispering sweet nothings at her. She looked up at us after a while of hugging and sweet-talking and typical mom loving stuff, and offered us a watery smile. "I don't know what to say…except thank you."

Bashfully, Jak rubbed the back of his head, not used to actually being thanked for doing a mission. Neither of us is accustomed to it, to be honest, considering half the time it's either an assassination job or it involves destroying private property.

"Aw shucks, it was nothing," I spoke for the both of us, more skilled in this area than my buddy Jak.

Still smiling, the woman looked down at her baby girl, her face glowing with pride and joy. And that look just sort of brought it all together, ya know? Receiving the mission, taking care of her, the trip down here, returning the kid to her rightful place…all the trouble seemed worth it at the end. Boy, and I thought I'd never be saying that about the hell-raiser!

"Still…thank you, both of you."

Jak nodded once, and with one last glance at the child, he turned and left back towards the city. If he was feeling so much as a smidgen of what I was, turning our backs like that had to be the hardest part of this mission. Up till now I hadn't noticed how…I'm _not_ going to say attached, not not not! I am so over that kid; she was horrible to watch over! She pulled on my tail and ripped out my fur and slobbered all over and and…and…ok, so it's obvious I like the kid a _little_, but that's all. Just a little.

Looking back once, I saw Randilyn and her mother still standing there, watching us go. Like some sappy ending to a sweet action movie the kid waved her tiny hand at our retreating backs. I was compelled to wave back, and if I'd stared on any longer I knew I'd do something stupid (because at dramatic times like this I always do), so I looked back in front of us.

And just like that, we walked towards the sunrise, blending in with the morning crowds who were discussing the day's gossip and making idle chitchat as we disappeared from sight. Just like heroes do.

* * *

To Be Continued… 


	5. Epilogue: Finishing Touches

Guardian-ad-litem

By Snare-chan

**Pairings**: None  
**Ratings**: PG-13  
**Category(ies)**: General/slight AU  
**Warning(s)**: Cussing  
**Status**: Continuation, 5/5  
**Summary**: When we'd first joined the Underground things were simple – ask for your orders, go out and shoot things, then come back and do it all over again. But this one?

**Notes**: Well it's now official; this continuation is complete. The epilogue isn't really a required read, but this to me adds a bit more closure to it than if I'd just left it at chapter four, despite its small size. That and I don't like even numbers, go figure.

And thanks. Really, _thank all of you_. If it weren't for all the constructive criticism and wonderful reviews I doubt this story would have progressed, improved, and just felt all together whole in the end if it weren't for all the comments this puppy received. I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it, and see you all on the flipside!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Jak II; wish I did like everybody else. They should put Jak II in stock, then I'd buy it all!

**Dedication**: To my coolest, bestest guy friend ever. If it weren't for him I wouldn't have gotten nearly as far as I have with my Jak II game, which means this story would suck even more than it might already because I'd know Jak shit about what's going on. ;D

* * *

"Hey, Jak?" 

"…?"

Shifting on my perch, my nails clicked on his shoulder guard. By the time I'd spoken up my mind was in a big whirl, and forming all my jittered thoughts into something coherent seemed like a task not worth taking on.

Aside from sharp bribes, my mind has a terrible time wrapping around stuff that make sense. Good thing my mind works about two times faster than most people's, otherwise my friend here would be waiting quite some time before I managed to get my act together.

"Uh, sure is quiet around here, wouldn't you say?"

The other turned his head slightly, almost knocking me off as his ear made a beeline for my eye as he took it all in, "Yeah; sure is."

More peaceful walking followed. Yes, I said walking. As in casually making one's way on foot. Neither of us was even bothering to keep an eye out for potential rides, deciding to take our time going about our day. It's not like we were in a hurry, or at least not to head back to the Underground. Knowing old sourpuss, he'd send us on another mission as soon as he got wind of our return.

That guy really needs to chill out. Just because he doesn't need to sleep and can live on _Espresso Granita_ doesn't mean everyone else can. What's a dude got to do around here to get a little shuteye? Probably kill somebody, and even then it'd have to be a big somebody to earn twenty minutes' worth of R&R.

"You miss her, huh?"

"Wha?"

I guess Jak caught on to my silence (who could really miss it?) and noticed what was wrong with me. We've been friends for so long that he can list off the last ten emotions I've felt by memory. Being as close as we are enables friends to do that sort of thing, scary as it sounds.

"Me? Miss that squealer? Hah! I'd sooner miss having an appointment for a root canal done by one of the Baron's finest dentists cancelled."

He chuckled at that, obviously not buying it. "You must miss her a lot then."

"How do you figure _that_ out from what I just said?"

"You forget who you're talking to."

Oh, right. The buddy mind-link tells all. How could I ever forget?

"I don't think you're reading my lips here. I. Don't. Miss. Her."

"…"

"_Jak_!"

He only grinned as we approached the lone alleyway smack-dab in the middle of nowhere in the city, my stomach pitting into my heels. The stupid loon; why can't we ever take a nice, long detour? I'm sure we wouldn't be missed if we circled the city a couple hundred times, and it'd be great exercise! It'd sure beat eating those Slimquick bars or whatever we're forced to live off of when we can't afford a real dinner.

"Do ya think…she'll be ok?" I shifted again, asking the question I'd meant to slip in from the very beginning of the conversation.

Jak nodded once as the sliding rock door leading to the hideout popped up and out of the way, revealing another set of metal doors at the bottom that opened on their own.

"If we can disappear in this city, I'm sure Randilyn and her mom can."

That actually made a lot of sense, since Jak has a bigger price on his head than Krew has priceless artifacts. I'd say it's very possible for the kid and her family to keep out of sight and out of trouble. Feeling a bit better with that knowledge, I pushed it to the back of my head for a rainy day, hopping onto Torn's table and covering its littered expanse with my still-slightly-soggy paws. Mwahaha.

"The drop off was a success, I take it?"

How the hell does Torn do that? He didn't even look up, and he automatically knew it was the big guy and myself. I bet you he has eyes on the top of his head; that's the only possible explanation for it.

"Aren't they all?"

Torn snorted, not even bothering to comment, "I've got a new mission for you."

"Wow, what a surprise!" Mock gasp of shock here, please. Jak merely shook his head, knowing that it was better to just leave all the negotiations to me.

"Oh, this one will be a surprise, all right. Since you two did so well on the last one, I thought neither of you would mind watching over one of my subordinates' pet catigers. I hope you're not allergic."

I stared at him in disbelief, waiting for the punch line. As he only raised a brow in our direction when my slackened lips didn't even twitch to comment, it didn't appear that there was one. With a groan, I collapsed backwards in a dead faint.

_God, here we go again!_

Fin-

**A/N**: For anyone who's seen the ending of the Jak and Daxter game that last phrase has a bit more meaning, heheh. Interesting how everything came full circle, huh?


End file.
